


Every Present Is a Past

by AstroGirl



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-01
Updated: 2009-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-04 01:32:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroGirl/pseuds/AstroGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is all that's left of Traken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Present Is a Past

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Classic Who Ficathon. I know there've been a number of audios featuring Nyssa, but I'm familiar with none of them, so this is based on TV canon only.

"Nyssa!" the Doctor called from the next room over, his cheerful voice echoing loudly in the museum's vast marble interior. "Are you there? The Curator says the fungus has completely vanished, so I expect it's time we patted ourselves on the back for another job well done and made our departure before he attempts to appoint us to the staff, hmm?" Hearing no answer, he poked his head through the door. "Nyssa?"

Nyssa was standing very still before a small glass case filled with artifacts. If she'd heard him, she gave no indication. "Nyssa?" he said again, concerned now, and hurried to her side. "Is something wrong?"

"Doctor." Nyssa's voice was flat and strained. "Look." She gestured minutely towards the sign that hung above the case.

The Doctor jammed his hands into his pockets and leant forward to read. "Treasures of the Traken Union," it said, and below that: "According to legend, the Traken Union, located in Mettula Orionsis, was a place of great tranquility, harmony, and peace. It was destroyed one thousand years ago, along with its entire cosmic region, in a catastrophic surge of entropic decay, which remains unexplained by science to this day. Although renowned throughout the universe, the Trakenite culture was fairly insular, and exerted little influence outside its own borders. Artifacts and records of the civilization, accordingly, are extremely rare. This small collection was carefully assembled from sources on thirteen different planets, and is the largest known collection of Trakenite artifacts to date."

"Oh," he said softly, and when he straightened up again there was a look of shadowed pain on his face that made him suddenly appear much older than he had when he'd entered the room.

Nyssa rested her fingers lightly against the glass, where it covered a delicate, intricately carved musical instrument. "This is a tal-flute," she said quietly. "My mother had one. I remember when I was very tiny, we would sit in the garden, and she would play. It was as if all the birds had come down from the trees to sing, just for me."

The Doctor touched her gently on the shoulder

"This is all that's left of Traken," she said, her voice finally beginning to choke.

"Nyssa..." But the Doctor, seeming not to know what to say, trailed off into silence and only clasped her shoulder harder.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You must think me very silly."

"No, of course I don't." He sounded almost hurt at the suggestion.

"It's just... It's one thing, I suppose, to know that it's gone. I understand that. I've accepted it. After all, nothing lasts forever, does it? But there's so little left. Not even history, just _legend_." She trailed her fingers down the glass. "They haven't even labeled some of these things correctly."

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said, gently drawing her close against him. "I can't imagine what it must be like for you."

She looked up at him, and despite the sadness in her eyes, she smiled, just a little. "I'm glad," she said. "I hope you never do."

They were silent for a long moment. "If you wanted to take some of it with you," the Doctor said, "I think a good case could be made for your claim under interstellar law. And we _did_ just save the entire museum from deadly parasitic fungus." He let go of Nyssa and scratched the back of his neck. "I could have a word..."

She shook her head. "No. Thank you, but no. I don't need them in order to remember. I'd rather they stayed here to help the rest of the universe remember, instead."

He nodded, clearly approving of this sentiment. "Would you like a little time here, alone?" he asked softly.

"Oh, no." She shook her head. "Being alone is the last thing I want right now, I think." She reached out and took his hand.

The Doctor clasped it, and they lapsed into silence again. "I'm sorry," he said at last. "I wish I knew what to say."

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "I think... I think what you should say is, 'Come along, Nyssa.'" She managed a pretty fair imitation of his voice, and he smiled. "Yes. 'Come along, Nyssa, and let's find some evil to defeat. Let's go save another world, so we can keep someone else from feeling like this.'"

The Doctor looked at her with a warm, slightly wondering expression. "You are an extraordinarily wise young woman, Nyssa of Traken."

She managed another smile. "I was brought up by wise people," she said.

He squeezed her hand, then released it and slung an arm around her shoulder. "Come on, then," he said. "I believe we have things to do."

Together they walked back to the TARDIS.


End file.
